Martyrs
by Yorik
Summary: Konoha is at war, and there's nowhere to go but up. Eventual KakaSaku. Vignettes.
1. Chapter One: Sixteen

**Martyrs**

Summary: Konoha is at war, and there's nowhere else to go but up.

Chapter One: Sixteen  


* * *

It is on days like these that Sakura remembers that Kakashi is a killer. They are standing in the aftermath of a short but fierce encounter with a band of Mist Nin, blood-soaked and sombre. Sakura is struck by how different he seems from the indolent pervert who skimps on dinner, with his lazy slouch and drooping gaze. The man before her now is none of these things - rather he stands tall and straight, his eyes alert and wary. As he turns to face them the sharingan swirls angrily and Sakura notices that it is the same colour as the blood in his hair. There is something feral and cold in his expression that she is not used to seeing and it makes her feel terribly uneasy. She shivers and doesn't think to blame it on the cold.

"Dispose of the bodies," he tells her. Then, turning to Sai: "Go scout the area. We don't know if there are others lying in wait, or worse - others ready to sound the alarm."

As Sai disappears into the trees, Kakashi pulls the hitai-ate over his eye. Sakura gets to work.

* * *

Sometimes Kakashi feels like there are two people living inside his head. One is a happy-go-lucky trooper and the other is like a shadow. Though at the end of the day Kakashi is a soldier and not the type to give in to metaphor, he can nevertheless appreciate the duality of what the image represents. A large part of being a soldier (warrior, guardian, shinobi, _alive_) is learning when one should and should not give in to shadow; it is something Kakashi struggles with on a daily basis.

These days, however, something feels off. The act of killing – an intimate, almost sacred thing – has become thoughtless. Two days ago he slit a man's throat and only felt a sick sense of pride at the efficiency of his kill. No remorse; no sadness - an almost-careless motion akin to scratching an itch. He supposes this makes him a fantastic shinobi (no one has had any reason to say otherwise), but feels an odd sense of dread settling like a heavy weight in his chest.

It is weeks later that he realises that it means he's losing his humanity. He has seen enough men who have lost theirs to know that something is terribly wrong. He thinks of his father and Obito, who died for theirs, and decides that something's got to give. Kakashi is not a young man (not anymore, especially not by ninja standards), and is therefore surprised that he is still learning things about himself. He feels a bit foolish in the moments following this revelation (because of _course_ humans are complex and constantly evolving); nevertheless he resolves to be mindful of the fact.

The next time Kakashi has to kill (a woman; approximately 16 years old; brown eyes; black hair; two broken nails; probably Chuunin; _this could have been Sakura_) he remembers how it feels to die and is thankful.

* * *

Sakura is sick of this war.

She tries to recall what it feels like to be at ease, but this only makes her more aware of how tense she is. She has not slept more than four hours in three days. She has been popping soldier pills for two.

Team Seven has just returned from a reconnaissance mission and are waiting for Kakashi to finish giving his report. It is late December and the air is chilly – for Fire Country, at least – though it is still lush and evergreen. A part of Sakura wishes her home had more than two seasons (summer and not-quite-summer); that she could watch the flowers bloom in spring, the leaves turn in autumn and the quiet snow in winter. She's never been the poetic type but laments the absence of suitable sources of inspiration should she ever feel like writing haiku.

She rests her head on Naruto's shoulder with a weary sigh.

"I'm tired," he says.

"Mm."

"I want ramen."

"Idiot. Though that does sound good."

They are not quite sixteen and have never felt so old. Sometimes Sakura thinks she remembers what it feels like to be young (younger?); when her most pressing troubles were wondering when Sasuke would finally notice they were meant to be, and when she and Ino wore the same dress to a party, and other such innocent follies. Eyes closed to shut out the world, Sakura recalls the fabric of her short existence and wonders just who is laying the seams.

She stands up.

"I'm going back to my tent. Update me later?"

"Sure."

Sai, who has been staring blankly into space with his sketchbook in his lap, catches Sakura's eye as she passes. She takes in the sharp intensity of his gaze and wonders what it feels like to have never had the luxury of happiness; wonders what he falls back on when things fall to pieces. Then she considers Sai's insensitivity to pain and, though she pities him, has to forcefully suppress a bitter envy rising like poison from the depths of her heart.

* * *

There is blood everywhere; the air is thick with sweat and terror. A long time ago the citizens of Konoha ceased to be ninja and became cannon fodder instead. Kakashi has lost count of the endless fallen and tries to channel all his energy into simply staying alive. To his right he sees a young nin's arms being severed from his torso. The ensuing battle drowns out the sound of his screams and the whole thing seems more like a surreal dream than reality; but his body aches and his eye is bleeding and Kakashi knows that no nightmare could be so terrible as this.

"SENSEI! BEHIND YOU!"

Using the Kubikiribōchō's heavy blade for balance, Kakashi spins in a wide arc and cleaves his assailant in two. The blood is slick and warm and the dead boy's eyes are still wide with surprise. Kakashi notices a kunai embedded in the boy's forehead that does not belong to him and looks around just in time to see Sakura break a man's neck with her bare hands. He notes the grim line of her mouth and is sorry that Konoha has lost so many children to this war in ways far worse than death.

He finds her, afterwards, at the bank of the Kohaku river, and she is crying. Crying females have never been his forte and his first intention is to bid a hasty retreat; yet he is oddly relieved by the sight. He is heartened (in some sort of sick, twisted way) by the evidence of Sakura's frailty; by her humanity; by the childishness that has lingered in the quiet nooks of her heart in spite of all she has endured. So he stands beside her, unspoken gratitude and support passing from the weight of his hand to the crown of her head in the dim silver of the early morning.


	2. Chapter Two: Nineteen

**Martyrs**

Summary: Konoha is at war, and there's nowhere else to go but up.

Chapter Two: Nineteen  


* * *

Things have not gone well for Konoha in the three years since the Battle of The Red Dawn. Intel suggests that the massacre was orchestrated by the new Fire Daimyo, seeking to tip the balance of power for fear of open revolution, in the unstable aftermath of the Akatsuki-Madara debacle. Mostly, the ninja (save for the Daimyo's personal troops) are scattered and few in number. The least optimistic among them say that the village no longer exists, but Sakura believes otherwise. She knows that there is hope while they still live.

The noisy restaurant they've agreed to meet their informant in lies in the dusty heart of Wind Country. It is safer to be in the public eye rather than hiding in the shadows; Sakura finds the irony unsettling. Sai sits across from her at the table, doing his best to school his expression into something resembling human. They are both disguised in civilian clothing and, in Sakura's case, a henge to alter her most telling features. Sai offers up an insincere smile, to which Sakura rolls her eyes.

"You don't have to try so hard, idiot."

"Oh. Good."

They order some tea and udon from a pretty waitress rushing past. Two minutes later, a man slides into the seat beside Sakura, and asks if the harvest has been kind this year.

"Only so far as the weather permits," she replies, as rehearsed.

The man nods and slips her a scroll under the table. "May your fields prosper and your orchards be abundant."

"We offer our thanks," smiles Sakura, and drops a small purse into his hand. When the man leaves, their dinner arrives. Twilight settles like a soft blanket in the streets; the restaurant staff begin lighting paper lanterns strung from beams on the low ceiling. Sakura's fingers tighten around her chopsticks as the bustle and clutter of the restaurant swells and chimes.

"I want to go home," she whispers.

Sai gives her a piece of beef in sympathy. He can't bring himself to say that 'home' no longer exists.

* * *

Gai can be deathly quiet when the need arises. Kakashi appreciates this. They are making their way back to the rebel base on the tail-end of a 'diplomatic' mission (as Tsunade jokingly called it) that has lasted the better part of two years. They have been sowing seeds that may some day grow into strong alliances, and re-kindling old ones, gathering intelligence all the while. Fire Country has become a volatile place, and Konoha-nin know that in such circumstances it is prudent to keep your friends close and enemies closer.

The forest is damp from consistent rain; the undersides of their sandals are caked with humus. The slow decay of organic matter gives off a pungent, earthy smell that reminds Kakashi a lot of his Genin days. The moon, slung low in the sky, offers little light to guide their path, yet the pair move stealthily and without impediment through the foliage. In fact, Kakashi feels much more comfortable traveling under cover of darkness – it is much safer than the alternative, and is the reason they chose to restrict their movements until after nightfall.

Gai suddenly halts in his tracks and holds up a cautioning hand. His strong profile is a dim silhouette as he successively motions to his ears and the forest ahead. Kakashi pulls back his headband and activates the sharingan. The whole world seems to hold its breath. A small team of ninja – not their own – are making their way through the underbrush. Kakashi sees the glint of a drawn blade and drops to a squat; Gai soon follows. The air is stuffy and humid; there are mosquitoes _everywhere_; not to mentiontheir backpacks feel bizarrely heavier this close to the ground. Several minutes pass before the two deem it safe enough to raise their heads. Kakashi gently passes his pack to Gai and takes to the trees to scout the path ahead. Twenty minutes later they are on the move again; they cannot afford to waste time – not when they are so close to base.

They pass through the gates some hours later with the rising sun at their backs. The base is a fortress built deep into the western mountain (courtesy of Yamato, for the most part), conveniently shrouded by dense forest. They report to Tsunade immediately, who, in spite of not having seen them in so long, treats them with cool professionalism (though the relief in her stance and the fire in her eyes says otherwise). After this they are left to their own devices. Kakashi slumps onto a bench in the empty mess hall and attempts to have a drink of water from his flask, only to find it empty. Before he can even think to curse Gai holds out his own, which Kakashi accepts gratefully. Gai is still unnaturally subdued and has not yet been able to shake off the forest quiet; however Kakashi expects it won't be long before he's back to normal. An unspoken expression of solidarity passes between them as their eyes lock and Gai does not smile – not this time. Kakashi knows that Gai understands him in a way that few people do; in spite of this he struggles to admit that Gai just might be his best friend. For the first time in a long time, Kakashi lifts his head and smiles.

* * *

Sakura knows a lot about waiting. She has waited for her teammates; for recognition; for justice; for love. This does not mean, however, that it is something she enjoys. She has just wasted twenty minutes of her lunch break waiting to give some jackass Shinobi a medical check-up, as per protocol, and she is not happy. 'Happy' is probably the farthest thing from her mind. This is especially the case because she is hungry – her bad mood alleviated only with timely sustenance – something Naruto calls 'taming the beast'.

"The_ nerve _of this guy!" she complains to her assistant, aggressively shelving vials of medicine. "Just who does he think he is?! Honestly, the only other person who's _this_ insufferably unpunctual is Kakashi Sen-"

"Nice to know I'm never far from your thoughts, Sakura-chan!"

Sakura turns her head so abruptly it's a wonder she doesn't break her neck. "Sensei!" she exclaims, "you're back!"

"Yo."

Kakashi stands in the doorway and gives himself a moment to appreciate how far his student has come since they first met. _C-cup,_ he guesses on instinct, then feels like a pervert. Meanwhile Sakura's smile is so wide it threatens to stretch beyond the confines of her face.

"Have you grown taller or something?"

"Sensei!" she shouts, though she can't stop smiling, "you're _late_."

"What can I say? I got-"

"-Lost on the road of life. Yadda yadda. You can sit over there."

While Kakashi shrugs out of his Jounin vest, Sakura hands him a surgical mask and dismisses her assistant. She turns away to gather her equipment and give him a little privacy as he removes his bindings, pants, shirt, and, by extension, his mask, which is then promptly replaced by the surgical one.

"Right. Ready?"

"Mmm."

Kakashi knows that most Medic-nin would not let him keep a mask on and is thankful that Sakura has not pressured him to do otherwise. It is one of the perks that come with having the right contacts, and for this Kakashi is grateful - especially with regards to someone like her, whom he has known for so long and so well. Nevertheless their proximity is more than a little disconcerting, and he feels very peculiar indeed when her fingers lightly brush against his skin.

"Goosebumps? You ticklish?"

"Have mercy, Sakura-chan."

She cackles ominously in response. Kakashi's skin still prickles uncomfortably and continues to do so all throughout his physical. For reasons not completely known, Kakashi's mind dwells on attempting to reconcile the image of the little girl he taught chakra control to with the woman standing before him. He feels impossibly old all of a sudden and a little wistful, in the same way all teachers do when their students grow up and move on with their lives.

"You've all grown so much," he mutters unintentionally.

"That happens," she murmurs.

Kakashi drops a hand on her head in a quiet show of affection, making Sakura smile. It is rare that they are alone together, and even rarer that he permits her a little acknowledgment. For a moment the room is peaceful and content.

"Okay Sensei, let me check your Sharingan, and then we'll be done."

Kakashi has a hard time looking into Sakura's eyes – though he's not quite sure why. They are fascinating and quite unlike anyone else's – the same clear green as cut glass – not to mention her most arresting feature (though her temper comes in at a close second). All he knows is that it feels a lot like she's staring into his soul and it's not something he particularly likes. He squirms uncomfortably.

"Oh stop it, you big baby. How did it hold up on your mission? Any bleeding or injuries?"

"None," he lies (because the truth is: barely; yes; at least three times in the past two years).

"Liar. But everything looks alright for now. I want you to come right here if it starts acting up again. Okay?"

"Aye aye, Doctor!"

Sakura rolls her eyes and tries very hard not to laugh.

* * *

In the midst of a skirmish on the borders of rebel territory, Sakura finds herself looking for the rest of Team Seven. Naruto runs by her right, setting off a series of exploding tags. Sai swoops overhead on an ink hawk, knocking enemy nin out of the trees. Meanwhile Sakura attempts to conceal herself while her chakra stores replenish so that she can continue to offer medical support to the Konoha rebel nin. The enemy forces are mostly made up of Root and Mist ninja, and their numbers are overwhelming. The rebels have sustained massive losses in the months leading up to the present attack and she's not sure how much longer they could possibly hold out. It is in this moment of despair that she finally spots Kakashi.

It is an odd thing to watch Kakashi fight. Even though he is a reputed genius and formidable shinobi, his style is odd and clumsy, like a leaf tumbling in the wind. He is mesmerising to watch nonetheless; there is a gracefulness to his movements that makes Sakura feel like she's watching a dance. He slips and dives so effortlessly that sometimes she is not altogether sure if he's lost control - but Hatake Kakashi is _always_ in control. He drives a tanto through an enemy nin's ribs and doesn't even break his pace. There is something so chillingly beautiful about the movement that it makes Sakura's breath catch in her throat.

Two seconds later she is spotted by a Root agent. The dance ends; the spell is broken as Kakashi vanishes into the trees. The whole world is smoke and ashes; craters sunk deep into the earth; screams of the suffering; death, and Sakura does the only sensible thing she can think of.

She runs.

* * *

Sakura comes to him most nights, after the others have gone to sleep. Naruto makes it a point to leave his sleeping bag unzipped and to wear his socks (because her feet are impossibly cold). He thinks she looks beautiful in these moments - like a fairy or a nymph – her hair is lilac in the darkness and her eyes are like glass marbles (and if he's honest with himself, they're also a bit freaky).

"Scooch over," she whispers.

He grumbles – not because he has any objections to Sakura sharing his bed, but rather because of the principle of the thing – and lets her slide in. The two huddle close together, cocooned in warmth. He will never admit this, but she isn't the only one comforted by their arrangement. These days her company is one of the only things that keeps him sane – after all, Team Seven is the closest thing to 'family' he has ever known.

"I wonder what Sasuke's doing," she murmurs suddenly.

Naruto exhales deeply into her hair and touches his forehead to hers.

"That teme. Busy being a jackass, probably."

Silence. Then:

"Your breath stinks."

They spend the next minute giggling and trying exhale on each others faces, and for a brief moment, everything feels normal.


	3. Chapter Three: Twenty

**Martyrs**

Summary: Konoha is at war, and there's nowhere else to go but up.

Chapter Three: Twenty

* * *

When the blow lands Sakura is still thinking about the pretty blue dress she never got a chance to wear. The impact knocks her off her feet and she whirls like a puppet on twisted strings. She crashes painfully into the ground face-first and hears an ominous crunch that may or may not be the sound of her jaw fracturing.

"Shit, Sakura!" shouts Ino, "why the hell didn't you dodge?!"

"Mrrrph," says Sakura eloquently.

"What?"

Ino drops to her knees and pushes some hair from her friend's face. Sakura, still lying face-down in the dirt, sighs deeply.

"Hey," says Ino softly, "what's wrong?"

"I'm so tired," Sakura murmurs. She flips onto her back and absently runs her fingers through the grass. "I was thinking, y'know...about...all _this_." She swallows audibly. The sky is a cheery blue above them; the trees – considerably less dense at their altitude on the mountain – rustle in the wind. Ino does not speak (for once); Sakura knows she understands. "I was just...y'know the dress my father got me? The blue one with the embroidered flowers? Remember that?"

"Sure I do – we had no idea where you could wear it. Not like we went anywhere that wasn't Ichiraku."

"It was pretty, though. 'Tousan was so excited."

Ino snorts. "It sat in your cupboard for a year, draped in mothballs."

Sakura squeezes the balls of her palms into her eyes, cradling her forehead in her hands. Around them the chorus of cicadas swells into a steady hum. Ino looks up at the clouds passing lazily overhead and fancies she sees one that looks like dango. She then stretches out her legs and lies back, resting her head on Sakura's stomach. She reaches out a hand and attempts to trace images in the clouds with her finger, one eye closed for focus.

"I know it's stupid," Sakura says in a strained half-whisper, "but even after all these years I still get so...upset."

"It's not stupid, Forehead."

"No, I mean – I thought I'd be _okay_ by now, y'know? Not bursting into tears at the thought of a freaking dress."

"Honestly? I really miss dressing up. We've been struggling for so long that even regular baths have become a luxury - what the fuck's up with that? I really miss looking pretty. I really need to _feel_ pretty. I feel like shit. I mean, I know that we're supposed to be thinking about the future of Konoha and that 'feeling pretty' is so trivial in comparison...but it's still important for your state of mind, y'know? That's what killer red heels and little black dresses do - they make you feel invincible in ways that don't involve breaking people's faces; they remind you that there's more to you than blood and violence; remind you that you're a _woman_, even though everyone's pretty much asexual out here – and that's important. That's what I think."

"Looking pretty is the least of your problems, Pig," quips Sakura with a wry chuckle, pulling her hands away from her face and leaning forward to peer at her friend. Ino rolls her eyes, smiling. Sakura lies back and her hands fall back into place over her eyes. "It's so hard, not knowing where they are. Not knowing whether they're...dead."

"Your parents are strong, Sakura."

"Kakashi Sensei's been traveling looking for survivors and groups of insurgents. He hasn't found them. No one's even _heard_ of them."

"Sakura..."

"It's the not-knowing that's killing me...and then I think about that _stupid_ dress and the look on 'tousan's face and I just..."

"You'll drive yourself crazy this way, Sakura."

"You're right," she sniffles, then wipes her nose on her arm. "I must be coming in for my period or something. My boobs hurt." At this admission Sakura pokes at her chest, bound tight by her gear.

Ino tries to laugh, but it sounds hollow and contrite. Yamanaka Inoichi is dead - another tragic casualty in the battle against Madara; and though her mother is safely hidden in one of the Konoha rebel camps, of her team, Chouji has not yet been vouched for. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of her heart beating to a steady rhythm, until the weight of her teammate's absence has more or less been successfully blocked from her conscious mind (the truth is: less).

"How's your jaw?"

"It's killing me."

"We should head back."

"Let's lie here a little longer."

When Sakura looks up at the clouds (scattered garlands of altocumulus against the sky) she imagines that she is floating above an endless ocean and wonders how far the fall is.

* * *

The man is screaming, they are out of anesthesia, and Sakura is elbow-deep inside his guts. Their latest heist to purloin medical equipment has just failed and she is half tempted to deliver a quick punch to his head just so he'll shut up. A concussion, however, is not what her patient needs; in fact it is rather damaging (who knew?) and likely to kill him – which is the complete opposite of the desired effect. Not for the first time Sakura wishes Shizune were around, but she is several miles away in another camp hidden deep in the mountains of Lightning Country; a new arrangement after the body of their Chief Medical Officer was found strangled to death in a ravine. She also wishes they were back at base camp rather than some hick town in the middle of nowhere, but beggars can't be choosers (and if wishes were little bottles of anesthetic then she'd have enough to knock out an elephant). She instructs her assistant – a beefy Chunin with absolutely no medical training – to shove the leather-bound handle of her tanto into the wounded Nin's mouth so that he doesn't bite off his tongue. Sakura is afraid that his screams will give away their position; as the team's only medic she cannot afford to die. Thankfully (or not, she can't decide) the Nin loses consciousness as she finishes the job, connecting his severed intestines and cauterizing the wound. The implications of their failed mission are dire – the enemy knew their plans in advance and were lying in wait. The Rebels walked straight into an ambush. Sakura knows that this information has to be conveyed to Tsunade as quickly as possible and subsequently gives herself firm orders not to die under any circumstances.

Afterwards, while they are hiding with baited breath in an alcove in the forest, Sakura tries to imagine how they could possibly manage with their dwindling stock of medical equipment and how long it would take to organise another heist. Two months' worth of planning has just gone up in smoke, after all. To say that she is frustrated would be to say that Amegakure is a little damp. She wonders about the futility of their struggle and whether it will all be worth it in the end. Unable to think of an answer, Sakura watches the slow trickle of blood from her arm pool in the dirt before closing the wound. The chakra burns her skin; the burn reminds her of Sasuke.

* * *

"What do you think, Kakashi?"

"I think it's time to mobilize our troops, Hokage-Sama. The best defense is a good offense, they say."

"We'll have to alert the other camps."

"Small teams would be best, to avoid suspicion."

"Yes, since we don't want to spark an international incident. Although we have allies in the hidden villages, I'm sure they'll be reluctant to get caught up in our civil war; not to mention the fact that we all officially classify as missing nin. Right. Draw up a list of teams and we can take it from there. Time is of the essence."

"Hokage-Sama."

"Goddammit brat, for the last time, I'm not Hokage anymore!"

"I'm sure your troops would say otherwise."

"Spare me your flattery. Report back in two hours. Don't be late!"

* * *

It is early morning and a fine mist has settled in the forest, wisps unraveling up towards and diffusing into the dense canopy. The sun breaks over the line of trees and filters through the leaves; Sakura watches them glow, silver-silhouetted against the shadows. She knows it's a foolish move, but nevertheless alters her path so that it leads into the patches of warm light; justifies the action by telling herself she's only filling up on her daily quota of vitamin-D. If Kakashi notices, he does not mention it.

They are one of several teams traveling incognito to alert the scattered Rebel forces of their plans for a final assault on the corrupt Fire Daimyo; the last step to their penultimate goal – the reclamation of Konoha. Kakashi, who has made this trip before, says that it will take them two days to reach the first camp. They stop at a narrow brook for a drink; clear water carving a small waterfall into the land surrounded by ferns, soft moss and mud. One day a few thousand years from now, Sakura thinks, this will take up a whole mountain. The implications are mind-boggling.

"Let's break here for half an hour," says Kakashi, dropping his pack at the base of a tree. "We're making good time. No sense in wearing ourselves out." He sits down and settles back with a sigh of relief. "You hungry?"

"Not really, though I suppose we should eat something. Go on, have a ration bar. I won't peek."

"You're so kind, Sakura Chan."

"Yup," she says, popping the final syllable. The silence between them is filled by the gentle gurgle of water bubbling over rounded stones lining the waterway. Sakura likes moments like these; the quiet in-betweens a welcome reprieve from the haste and chaos that seem to dominate her life. She particularly enjoys missions with Kakashi because not only he is a brilliant guide and tactician, he also manages to offer the comfort of companionship whilst keeping almost entirely to himself. Sakura appreciates this. She tells him as such.

"Why, thank you," he replies with a smile (or so she assumes from the movement of his mask). "The pleasure is all mine."

Kakashi the enigma. Kakashi the genius. Kakashi the pervert. Kakashi who seems like just a regular guy, but clearly is not. Sakura notices the fine crow's feet that begin at the crescent of his eye and wonders how old he is now. Back when Team Seven were Genin he seemed impossibly tall and grown-up; these days he feels a little closer to Earth and a little less like a superhero. Sakura laments that she barely knows the man who has played such an important role in her life (in the shinobi world, as a matter of fact). The downside of keeping to himself, she realises with some disappointment, is that they could never _really_ be friends. Respected teacher and invaluable teammate, yes; someone to confide in and laugh with – not so much.

"Hey Sensei," she says suddenly, "what's your favourite colour?"

Kakashi opens a bleary eye and looks at her with not a little incredulity. "Eh?"

They stare at each other awkwardly. A cricket chirps with absurdly perfect timing.

"I can't say I particularly have one," he says finally. The question _'why?'_ hangs in the air but he does not voice it.

Sakura flushes and hides her face with her hand, grinning in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she says, "I was just thinking about how little I actually know about you, and it seemed like a perfectly reasonable question in my head." She giggles at the sheer idiocy of the situation and shoots him a warm smile. "Sorry, Sensei."

Dropping her gaze, Sakura removes the rush hat strung around her neck and begins rummaging in her pack for ration bars. Kakashi watches the strong curve of her back and thinks about Rin and Obito, and how it's the little things mean the most at the end.

"I am partial to neutral, earthy tones," he mutters (finally), and when Sakura glances back his visible eye is determinedly shut and his ears are an extremely fetching shade of pink.

* * *

Sometimes Shikamaru wishes he could turn back the clock. Deep down he's a pretty simple guy with simple wants; he misses the days when he didn't have to worry about anything except whether or not Chouji was going to eat the Naras out of house and home. This sense of ease is tough to hold on to when one is the commander of a rebel camp, however.

(And Chouji is still missing.)

Being aware of the world, he muses, means having to perpetually live life in a state of rage and anxiety. Idiots seem that much more idiotic; simple problems seem that much more trying. He can't remember the last time he had a full night's sleep without being woken to deal with news of some imminent threat or another, and desperately wishes the camp could run itself for twenty minutes so he could just lay back and watch the clouds. Pushing the flap of his tent aside, Shikamaru peers out into the misty twilight and wonders how much longer the rebels can hold out. The sky is dark and pregnant with the promise of rain and seems vaguely ominous. Or it would be, if he believed in such things.

"Taichou."

A young shinobi materialises out of the shadows and Shikamaru recognises him as being one of the watch-guards.

"Hm?"

"We've spotted two incoming shinobi at the west point."

"Do you have an ID?"

"We're working on that, though we have reason to believe that one of them is Copy-Nin Kakashi."

"And the other?"

"It's difficult to say, but we suspect a kuniochi."

"Get a positive ID, then bring them here."

The ninja vanishes; Shikamaru lets the flap fall and recedes into the quiet of his tent.


End file.
